


all up in the air

by waveydnp



Series: byebye 20gayteen daily fic advent [22]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 18:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17106185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: prompt: migraine/travel sickness





	all up in the air

He can feel the twinges of it as soon as the plane takes off the ground, the propellers working hard against cold December wind to get them where they’re headed. He shouldn’t be surprised; the real surprise is that it’s taken this long to settle in.

Even if it’s not a surprise, it still sucks. He’s meant to be on holiday now and his ibuprofen tablets are tucked safely away in his suitcase.

Dan is crammed in next to him, gripping the armrest so hard his knuckles are white. 

It’s a tiny tiny plane and they’re big big men who really don’t fit at all, and the weather today is not the gentlest so they’re rocking around as the plane rises and London gets smaller and smaller beneath them. 

He’s not going to say anything to Dan. Maybe it will settle once they’re properly in the air. 

It doesn’t. He can feel it coming on, the tension of these last few… well, years, really. Year at least, but the last few months in particular. They hadn’t really been counting on the post-tour time being even more stressful than sleeping on a bus and performing in a new city every other day, but alas. DVDs had to be edited, merch had the be hawked.

Hearts had to be broken. He’s trying not to think about that part, though. _After Christmas_ , Dan had said. _We’ll make a plan after Christmas._

As they always do. But this time it’s different. This time it’s big. This time it’s life changing stuff, not just for the two of them, but for the millions who’ve invested their time and happiness into what they put out into the world.

The stress of that thought alone has his blood pounding against his temples. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and then there are fingers on his, gripping, to give comfort or to take it he’s not sure but it doesn’t actually matter. He likes them there all the same.

They’ll be fine. He keeps telling himself over and over: they’ll be fine. Even if it all ended now, he’ll always have those fingers gripping his. 

It’s not all ending. It’s changing, which is scary, but it’s not ending. Sometimes it feels like the same thing. He’s not as good with change as Dan is.

Dan doesn’t see it like ending. He sees it like growth. Phil’s not sure. He’s not sure he needs growth. He likes who he is, who they are.

But he knows what it means to Dan. He knows it’s a good thing, a sign that Dan is engaged in his life and working actively to make it one that he really loves living, so Phil’s not going to cling to the reasons change scares him.

He’s not going to cling to fears that will make this headache impossible to get rid of. If he can calm himself down and take the tablets at the airport, he’ll be alright. He’ll go to bed early tonight and sleep it off and not ruin this precious time he has with his family - his whole family, one very special member included.

The turbulence smoothes out. Dan’s fingers stop their gripping and Phil opens his eyes. “We’re alive.”

“Speak for yourself,” Dan croaks. “We’re basically a tin matchbox in the sky right now.”

“What happened to you craving the sweet release of death?”

Dan pulls out his phone. “Need mince pies first.” He looks up and over at Phil and he knows. He just instantly knows. “What’s wrong?”

“Headache,” Phil admits reluctantly. “Just a bit.”

“Not surprised,” Dan says softly.

Phil leans his head back against his tiny tiny seat and sighs. “I know.”

“We can go to bed right away,” Dan says. 

Phil cracks one eye open to take in Dan’s face. It looks mildly worried, which also shouldn’t be a surprise to Phil. The last time he’d had a headache he’d ended up unconscious on the bathroom floor. A whole lot of bloodwork and a few scans later they’d been told in no uncertain terms that his headaches should not be ignored. 

He needs to take care of himself. He needs to rest when he feels worn down. 

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, no. Not getting away with that anymore.” Dan sits up a little straighter. “Close your eyes.”

Phil obeys and lets his eyelids fall shut. Then those fingers are on either temple, massaging in slow circles just how Phil likes. 

Maybe change isn’t always scary. This is a change, Dan touching him in plain view of other people, people who may or may not draw their own conclusions. This is a change and it’s not scary at all.

“Take out your contacts as soon as we get there,” Dan says authoritatively. 

Phil nods. He already feels a little better.

“Are you thinking about things we agreed not to think about?”

“Things you told me not to think about,” Phil corrects.

“And you agreed.”

“I agreed to try.” 

He hears Dan sigh very quietly. 

“I’m sorry,” Phil says, trying to keep his voice low lest anyone be trying to listen in. “You know me. I fixate.”

“They’ve got dilmas.”

“Yeah.”

“And then bloopers.” Dan keeps his fingertips rubbing circles in just the right place, in just the right rhythm. He’s so patient, Phil thinks, in moments like this. Not always, but always when Phil really needs him to be.

“Yeah,” Phil says quietly. “I know.”

“We’ll come up with something,” Dan all but whispers. “We always do.”

Landing magnifies the pressure in his head and makes his ears pop which does nothing to soothe the ache, but seeing his mum’s smiling face and smelling the sea and feeling the cold island air on his face does wonders. He pops one tablet more than he really should but he just can’t bear the thought of losing a single precious moment to his own neuroses. Not at Christmas.

The drugs stave it off long enough for him to drink lots of tea and help his mum make dinner and eat too many mince pies and join forces with Dan to annihilate the rest of his family at charades. When the twinge returns Dan takes his hand and tells his firmly that they’re off to bed.

It’s strange for the house his parents live in to feel so much less like home than a rented flat in London, a city he always swore he hated. Having Dan next to him helps, though. He’ll miss that come the night of Christmas eve when the left side of the bed is empty.

His head hurts a little, but he’s sure it’ll be fine in the morning, as long as he can get some sleep and keep himself doing that awful fixating thing.

“I like it here,” Dan says.

Phil chuckles at the randomness of it. “Yeah?” He knows what Dan’s doing. He can read him like a book, but he appreciates the effort to distract him all the same.

“Yeah. It feels like running away. But in a good way.”

“Yeah,” Phil agrees lazily. He and Dan are laid side by side on their backs. Phil lifts his leg and lets it come down to rest on top of Dan’s.

Dan rolls onto his side and traps Phil’s leg between his thighs. “You ok?”

“Yeah.” It’s an instinct, almost second nature to brush his own pain aside. He gets bored of having to say it so often, or maybe afraid Dan will get bored of hearing about it.

“But like, actually.”

“Hurts a bit.”

“D’you need rub rubs?” Dan asks.

Phil laughs and turns his face into Dan’s neck. “Shut up.” He reaches down to find Dan’s hand and curl his own around it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“I know it can be a lot.”

“Everything can be a lot,” Dan says. “I’d rather have a lot than have nothing.”

If he thought about it too hard Phil’s sure he’d cry at that. It’s a world away from anything Dan would have said back in the early days, in fact the exact opposite.

There were days, so many days when Dan wanting nothing. Days when he felt absolutely nothing. Even now there are still those days every once in a while, but he’s right of course; a lot is so much better than nothing.

And that’s change. That’s a change that’s as far from scary as anything could possibly be.

“I’m scared,” Phil whispers, because he’s wrong. Dan doesn’t get bored of hearing what’s inside his head.

“I know. I am too.”

“I’m scared we’re making a mistake.”

“We’re not,” Dan says softly. “I think we’re not. And if we are then I think it’s one we need to make.”

Phil sighs. “I feel like I used to be braver.”

“Everyone is braver when they’re younger. I think it’s just because you don’t know well enough what to be worried about.”

Phil pulls back so he can see Dan’s face. “You’re braver now, though.”

“Not braver, just…” he trails off. “I dunno.”

“You’re so different.”

“So are you,” Dan says. “That’s why we need this.”

“Yeah.” It’s not that he disagrees. It’s just that the thought of it terrifies him. 

“It’s not a life thing,” Dan reminds him. “That’s set. We just want to find a way to reflect that, yeah?”

Phil nods.

“But we’re not talking about that now. Right now we’re on holiday and you have a headache and you have to let me give your rub rubs.”

“Mm,” Phil hums. “Do I get to choose where?”

“Absolute filth.”

Phil giggles and rolls onto his back again. “I’m joking.”

“Orgasms _are_ supposed to be good for relieving stress,” Dan muses.

“Yeah but they also take energy of which I have exactly zero.”

This time it’s Dan’s turn to laugh. “Ok old man.”

“Shut up. Middle aged at best. Ask me again in the morning.”

“You know I will.”

They fall quiet after that, their hands still intertwined. Phil’s not sure he can make good on his promise not to think about it, in fact he’s quite sure that’s impossible. But the man who lies next to him is so sure that the move they’re making is the right one that it feels almost silly to be afraid.

The man who lies next to him is so changed by time, so completely and utterly transformed for the better with each year that passes. He is proof that change can be good. It can be the best goddamn thing in the world.

It might not be this time, but Phil reckons he’s still willing to try.


End file.
